Preheat oven to 180º degrees and line a large baking tin with baking paper.

Combine the Sesame Paste, white sugar, sesame seeds, orange rind and the egg. Mix until smooth. then just drop spoonfuls of dough onto the prepared baking sheet. Brush the top of each biscuit with honey and sprinkle with sesame seedsBake for 6 to 8 minutes.

Do not overbake, These biscuits are best when they are still soft and just barely brown on the bottoms.They will solidify as they cool. ENJOY!

Preheat oven to about 180 º C/ 350ªF. Grease and lightly flour a 25 cm cake tin (with the hole in the middle!). Sift together the flour, the baking powder, 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon and the salt.In a large bowl beat 2/3 cup of butter, 1 1/3 cups white sugar and 1 1/2 teaspoon vanilla until light and fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time, beating for at least 1 minute after each egg. Beat in the flour mixture alternately with the milk. Pour mix into prepared pan.Bake in the preheated oven for 40 to 45 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the cake comes out clean. Let it cool in the tin for 10 minutes. While it cools, make the Cinnamon Sauce:In a saucepan, place 1/2 cup white sugar, 6 tablespoons, the butter, water, 1 teaspoon vanilla and 3/4 teaspoons ground cinnamon. Heat and stir until butter melts, the sugar dissolves and startes to thicken. You might also like to add a dash of Port or Brandy to the sauce...Turn the cake out of the tin while it is still warm and poke holes around the top of the cake with a fork. Pour the warm cinnamon sauce into the holes and onto the top and sides of the cake.Serve warm, with coffee or tea!

Friday, 20 November 2015

Tell me, kind kindred,
If you can, or if you will
What rough Beast
Did we invite
To our Feast?

What shadow flight of delight,
What ritual of doubt
Did we drown
Before Heaven's Throne?

What fell apart?
Was it our hope,
Or just the courage
Of our sickly heart?

Did we dry our
Tears with a sweet,
Sweet needle
Or a vial of pills?

Tell me, kind kindred,
What have we loosed
Upon the world?

What lazy dreamer
Invented these
Vapid toys
For men of war
Or murdering boys:
Exploding drones
Nanotech soldiers
And vampire-clones?

Even now
A gauntlet hand
Reaches to summon
The sibilant
Scimitar of feathers.
Descending to spy
Screams in fright
And takes wild flight
Into the lowering sky..
So the Old Gods
And the New
Eschew our table:
Odin is gone,
Ceres unable,
And even that God
That taught Cain
To hate Abel
Turns away
In disdain.

Monday, 16 November 2015

Anywhere the Rule of Clergy is set over the Law of Man, the authorities believe they have a Mandate from Heaven that frees them from guilt; and an automatic clause of forgiveness from all and any sin.

This is true of all religions, with the possible exception of Buddhism. This maybe because Buddhism sees salvation, or enlightenment as something to be achieved by the individual through meditation and meritorious deeds, not attributed in trade for worship by a Divine Agency.

Sunday, 15 November 2015

Everyone is commenting on Paris' dark night, offering comfort and I have no words.

Everyone of us who has lived through violence knows the numbing sense of unreality and violation; the destruction of confidence in ourselves, and in the safety we took for granted as our right.

There are no words, and no comfort to offer. This is why there are moments of silence, to echo that frightening void that opens inside us at the loss of light.

A few years ago, the Basque Nation sent ETTA a clear message. They marched in the streets in their hundreds of thousands in absolute silence carrying placards that read "BASTA JA!"ENOUGH!

We need to see the Islamic communities of Europe on the streets, marching in silence with the words they cannot speak held high: ENOUGH!

We need that so we can continue to believe that those other words the French gifted the world - liberté, égalité, fraternité - really do apply to every man, woman and child, of all nations, races and creeds.We beg you, cry out ENOUGH! or we shall.

How sad. It seems I did have words after all. But none of them of comfort.

Wednesday, 4 November 2015

Everyday Southern European countries turns away boat-loads of starving, terrified people from war-torn North Africa, calling them "illegal immigrants". I'd like to know what is the difference between these people and the Syrians refugees?

Monday, 2 November 2015

There is a man sleeping in a bus stop near my daughter's school, 200 meters from my home.

You must understand that we live in a priviledged residential area, in what is considered the very best munincipality in the country, with the highest level of education, the best infrastructures and the highest income bracket.

I am not wealthy, alas, very far from it, and sometimes (often) struggle to make ends meet, I don't own a home here, I rent-share one. I know how close I walk to the edge. I and a lot of other people just like me and I am ashamed to say I flinched. I wanted to look away. His poverty embarrassed me. It seemed out of place there. Surely there is somewhere more appropriate to be homeless? I though that. I did. I thought this ugly thing,

But I made myself lift my head, smile and greet the man who had laid out his blanket on the bus-stop bench, just as I would anyone else from the neighbourhood who might be sitting waiting for the bus.

I told myself that it could be me, with the neatly packed bags and the blanket. All it takes to be destitute and alone is a slip on the banana-peel of Fate.

Just in case anyone wants to know? I was a political refugee. South Africa took me and my family in, and we respected the laws, religion and customs of our benefactors. South Africa became our country.

Refugees do not vandalise, demand or despise.We truly were grateful for the opportunity to start new lives.

I prophesy that in six months time you will see these new refugees on TV bemoaning the lack of "conditions" they have been given...

That the housing is bad, their culture is not respected, they want this or that condition of their religion observed in public schools even though it may infringe on our code of human rights...Just saying.

BTW I wanna get a Suite at the Ritz like Rushdie and a coterie of those muscular yummy MI5 agents to protect me...